Grieving for Love
by spellwrite
Summary: Hermione suffers a major loss. Can Harry overcome his argument with Ron enough to even notice? H/Hr.


Grieving for Love

Disclaimer: It's all mine! laughs manically I wish. - I own nothing and have no money so you wouldn't get very far with taking me to court anyway. R&R please! This is my first fic on this site and i'd love to know what you think. Constructive critism appreciated but no major flames please.

On with the story...

The warm glow of the smouldering common room fire reflected into Hermione's unblinking eyes. How long had she been sitting there? All she knew was that she had been there before the guys had left for Quidditch practice. They'd been gone over two hours. Shifting slightly in the chair she tried to regain some feeling into her numb body. Her head rolled to droop onto the arm of the chair and she brought up her knees and cradled them against her chest. It was as if she was trying to curl up into such a tiny ball so as to become invisible – not that anyone would have noticed her had she burst into song in the middle of the great hall.

Minutes later the portrait hole creaked open and a disheavled and angry looking Harry climbed through. He plonked himself heavily in the scarlet armchair opposite the sofa Hermione occupied without even looking at her. Then he started fuming.

"Ron is such a bloody prat!" he ranted. "I swear to Merlin! Just because he's not been made Quidditch captain does not mean he can ignore me completely and undermine me throughout the whole bloody practice!..." and off he went, hardly pausing for breath.

That is until Hermione had had enough. She could not take anymore. Slowly, she uncurled herself from the sofa, her muscles protesting after being still for so long, and stood up to face him. Her entire body shook from all the emotions she had, held inside her just waiting to be released. Harry didn't notice.

"Stop." she whispered dangerously. Harry faultered mid-flow.

"-what?"

"Stop." she repeated louder. "I've had enough. The whole world does not revolve around Quidditch – or even the position of captain! In fact, it doesn't just revolve around you either! But no. Not one of you has even stopped to think why their so called 'best friend' has been so withdrawn and silent for the past few days. Why your so called 'best friend' hardly talks to you anymore. That your so called 'best friend' is so silent in classes as well as outside of them. No. It's Quidditch 24-7 with you and Ron – you probably didn't even notice." Hermione's voice had risen through her speech and now the entire common room had stopped to listen. Her voice suddenly dropped to a whisper, a single tear escaping down her cheek. Had Harry not strained to hear her he might have missed it.

"No-one cares that the mudbloods muggle parents are dead." And with that a dam seemed to burst inside her. Every tear that she had held back streaked its way down her pale face and she turned, still shaking, and fled to the nearby stairs and up to the girls dormitories. Harry sat their, a look of pure shock and self loathing clearly imprinted upon his face: how had he not noticed?

All of a sudden talk burst out all around the common room about the scene they had just witnessed between two members of the Golden Trio. Yet no one had been able to hear what Hermione had whispered. No one but Harry. All thoughts of of Quidditch, Ron – everything – had flown out of his head and all could think about was her. Potentially she was the most important thing in his life and yet he had not noticed her.

He had to do something.

Hermione lay on her bed, tears streaking their way down her face, when she heard a tapping on the thin glass window at the end of the dormitory. She climbed off the bed and pulled open the window only to be paralysed with shock as a floating Harry, suspended mid-air on a broomstick, came into view. He flew in throught the window, dismounted and dropped his broom carelessly where he stood. He uttered only two words:

"I'm sorry". For a few seconds there was complete silence and neither of the two moved. Then, all at once, Hermione stepped forward into Harry's embrace, a fresh wave of tears engulfing any words she may have said.

Harry just cradled her in his strong arms – he would never let her go again. He made a promise to himself that he would never let her feel how he had felt.

Hermione awoke to find that, while the other sixth year Gryffindor girls were still tucked under their bed covers, fast asleep, the sun had fully risen and was streaming through into the circular room, spilling over the contents and causing Hermione to blink rapidly. She hadn't got up after sunrise now since before he parents death; if she couldn't sleep she didn't see the point of lying in bed and instead she exhausted herself over anything she could think of, just to pass the night. It was as if a calmness had finally washed over her. She had finally sucumbed to a dreamless sleep and had not awoken until now.

Remembering her confession the previous night and the events before and after she had lost her head, Hermione slowly clambered out of bed feeling strangely refreshed. In hindsight she realised that she did not regret telling Harry: he had been so understanding, knowing better than most how she felt. She felt somehow more connected to him now – like they fully understood each other whereas before they could not.

After making herself presentable, more than enough for another saturday alone and hiding, she made her way out of the common room and down to the great hall for an early breakfast. However, when walking through the entrance into the hall she wad greeted with a sight she did not expect for this time in the morning. Harry was already sitting at the Gryffindor table and it looked as though he had been waiting for her. As she made her way towards him, he began loading two plates with food then smiled and pointed at the one opposite him. Returning the smile she sat down next to the plate and started shovelling her first proper meal in weeks, down her neck. She looked up apologetically when Harry chuckled. She gulped down her mouthful and bashfully whispered "sorry...". Harry chuckled again.

"No." he contradicted her. "I'm just surprised you haven't withered to nothing with the food you've been eating – although now i notice, you do look terrible." His response sounded so solemn that Hermione couldn't help giving out a small giggle. At the sound a grin broke out onto Harry's face and soon the pair were laughing so hard the few people in the hall turned to look at them. Hermione didn't care – she hadn't laughed in weeks and it felt so good.

Just as the pair stoped laughing, the doors to the Great Hall swung open again and Ron shuffled in looking thoroughly tired. He grabbed food from Hermione's plate, earning a look from Harry, and shoved it into his mouth before speaking.

"Hawydupomiseddupwykidich..."

"Ron: swallow – repeat." Ron gulped. "Sorry Harry. I said you promised to play quidditch today." Harry glanced at Hermione.

"I'm sorry Ron, I can't. I was going to..." but Hermione interrupted him.

"You go – i'm fine. Honestly. It'll give me a chance to get some studying done."

"You sure?" He studied her face for a few seconds before turning back to Ron.

"OK. Just let me go and get my broom."

"I'll meet you down at the pitch." said Ron, turning his back and walking away. Harry's eyes found Hermione's and held her gaze. A small smile formed on his face before he stood. Tearing himself away he followed Ron out of the hall.

The weekend passed by fairly uneventful for Hermione. She had started studying again – motivated once again to end her lowering grades by the fact that, as Harry kept telling her, her parents would have wanted to see her do well.

Struggling once again with her heavy bag, Hermione met the boys coming out of breakfast. She had missed it due to the fact that she was re-reading her notes one final time to assure that she had caught up with everything she had neglected. Harry's gaze once again met hers, a worried frown upon his face. Hermione just flashed him one of her know-it-all smiles and the worry immediately ceased. He knew she must be feeling better.

They set off towards the first class of the week: a long morning of double potions in the gloomy, unlit dungeons. The domain of Professor Snape was never very welcoming but it was somehow made worse when it shattered that weekend feeling. Every Gryffindor was now resigned to the fact that their week was going to start bad.

The closer to the dungeons the narrower the corridors became. You could only just get two people through side by side and Ron was forced to walk slightly in front. He seemed to stand out in the dark corridor – his hair almost shone, like a beacon in a time of warning. A small smile appeared on Hermione's face as she though of this. However, her mind was not long occupied by this though. As she walked, Hermione suddenly became aware of just how small her currant space was – and how close she was to Harry. Her nostrils were filled with a smell that was distinctly him. Her fingers brushed softly against his as they walked and she felt a tingling surge up her arm and through her body. Hermione felt her cheeks grow red and was thankful that it was dark. She didn't know what was happening – she couldn't possibly be falling for her best friend.

The trio entered the dank potions room and made their way to their normal desks only to find that the heavy wooden work stations had been split into pairs all around the cold room. A very disgruntled Ron passed to the front desk to work with Neville and Harry gave him an apologetic look. As nice a person as Neville was, his reputation as the worst potion maker in the school preceeded him. Ron just flashed them both a "you-owe-me" look and plonked himself on the stool next to the chubby boy who smiled at them all.

"In this cauldron," Snape pointed to the simmering black container on his desk at the front of the roon, "is a potion called The Amour Draught. Can anyone tell me what it does?"

For the first time in weeks, Hermione's hand shot above her head. Ignoring all the strange looks from the people in the room – including Snape – she ploughed on.

"Amour is french for 'love'. It's called 'the love draught' because it basically tells you who you have, or will, fall in love with." There was silence throughout the dungeon as her words were slowly processed. All of a sudden there was a squeal from the girls and a collective groan escaped the boys lips.

"Ssshh!" Snape hissed at the class. He turned back to Hermione. "You may know what it is but please, don't expect to be able to make it successfully. Your track record over the past few weeks has been poor to say the least." Hermione faced him defiantly.

"I'm almost glad you've been paired with Potter." He turned his back and waved his wand at the hovering blackboard. Ingrediants and instructions appeared.

"Begin."

Hermione stood crossly to fetch the ingrediants when she felt Harry's hand surround hers.

"Don't let him get to you." came his soft voice in her ear, his breath tickling her neck. Once again a tingling sensation ran throughout her body and she sighed and relaxed before going and getting the first ingrediants for them to work on.

Almost two hours later and the pair were near the end of the potion. Now all they needed to do was leave it to stand for a minute. Hermione sat anxiously at the desk, tapping her fingers: she knew that one of the pair would be expected to test the potion. Harry mistook her tapping as a reaction to Snape's earlier comment. Once again he took her hand in his and their eyes met. Hermione knew then and there that she needed to test the potion.

Snape stood and called for silence. A hush immediately fell over the class. "I do not care whether you have finished your potions or not. One of the pair will test them – now." A member of each pair decidedly made their way to Snape's desk to collect a vial. Hermione stood before Harry could even think to move. She returned with a vial and carefully extracted some potion into it. She looked at it quickly, checking it was the right colour.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Harry's voice broke through her thoughts. Hermione just looked at him and gave a small nod before she swallowed the contents of the small glass bottle.

A now familiar tingling swept over her and she cautiously peered over the edge of the pewter cauldron, into the thick scarlet liquid. Nothing happened. Disappointment engulfed her and she went to withdraw her head. That's when it happened. An image slowly started to appear from what seemed to be the depths of the cauldron.

All at once Hermione gasped, turned and fled from the classroom leaving a very startled, confused and worried looking Harry and a very angry Snape staring after her.

Hermione spent the rsst of the day in the dormitories. She couldn't face the thought of going down to the common room – that is – until she realised that she didn't even have her school bag.

Quietly creeping down the stairs, Hermione prayed that Harry had just left her bag next to her seat where she studied. Unfortunatly for her, the prayer was not answered. Both Harry and Ron were sitting in the chairs by the fireplace, the warm flames glowing, lighting up their faces. For a second she debated forgetting her bag and heading back up the stairs. Again her hope was dashed when the stair she was standing on decided to creak. The two boys looked up. Hermione couldn't meet Harry's searching gaze and instead focused, confused, upon Ron's fuming expression. Before she could do anything, Ron spoke.

"What the hell have you been doing all day?!" he shouted exasperatly. "Honestly! You just ran out of potions and left us trying to stop Snape from giving a detention to all of us! And then you don't go to another lesson all day! Now i've got crap bloody notes – again! I'm going to fail! What kind of friend lets us down like that?!" Hermione could not take another word. She tore down the final few steps and flung herself at Ron, slaming her palm full force across his cheek. He looked dazed.

"How dare you!" Hermione spat at him. " You have the cheek to accuse me of being a crappy friend?" her voice rose to a scream. "My parents are dead and you didn't even bloody notice!" Once again her emotions got the better of her and she sped out of the room – tears flowing undisguised down her face.

If looks could kill then the one Harry sent a Ron in that moment would have left the red head so far under the ground he wouldn't have been able to reach the daisies if he tried. In two strides Harry had crossed the room and jumped out of the portrait hole after Hermione. He didn't look back.

Hermione sped through the deserted corridors and raced down the stairs, jumping over the occasional trick step. She heard footsteps behind her and a voice shouting but she just kept running. She didn't know where she was going: she just knew that she had to get out of the castle walls. She didn't want to be in the same building as Ron at the moment.

Barely pausing to stop in the entrance hall, Hermione threw the heavy doors open and ran out into the cold winter night's air. Her warm pants created a fog around her as she ran and the tears on her cheeks made her face tingle as they almost turned solid.

Finally pausing for breath, she collapsed next to the solitary tree at the far end of the Great Lake. The ground was cold and damp beneath her and her robes were soaking up the wet but Hermione didn't care. She had always known that Ron had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon but now he'd gone too far.

Hermione was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't hear Harry come to a stop just behind her. He bent down and wrapped his arms around her from behind. She leant into him as he cradled her. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she thought about the potion. She realised it was true.

Harry felt her tear as it dripped onto his hand. He turned her around to face him. He cupped her face softly, lifting it to meet his gaze. Using his thumb he brushed away the path the tear had left. Hermione's eyes closed as she held back the rest of the tears that were threatening to fall.

"It was you." she whispered against the breeze. She opened her eyes to find a questioning look on his face. "The potion. It was you I saw." Her eyes drifted shut again. Silence. And then something very unexpected. Harry's lips found hers and gently caressed them. She pulled back slightly, this time the questioning look on her face.

"It was always you". It was all she needed to hear. This time their lips met it held a desperation that both felt. Hermione's tongue ran along his bottom lip and he immediately parted his own, allowing her entrance. Their tongues battled in one anothers mouth until the both withdrew several minutes later. Harry unwrapped himself and took off his robe, winding it around Hermione's petite body. He stood and lifted her with him – once again cradling her in his strong embrace. Hand in hand they walked back up to the castle – together.

It was how it was meant to be.

The End.

So yeah...press the pwetty blue button - you know you want to...go on...

Thanks,

Spellwrite


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